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lost love poem

quand j'étais a enfoncé ŕ Londres
les jours hypocrites
les počts le disent
comme lui ŕ qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
jusqu'ŕ sa fenętre de chambre
gloom
je vais ma maničre complacently
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
foncé-eyed
je dois dire bonne nuit
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement

 



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